There was always something

I just want to write this down.  And I know that I probably shouldn't be writing it here for any number of reasons, but I'm doing it anyway.  Mostly because, well, it's my blog, and nobody but me gets to say what does or doesn't get written here.  Things keep bothering me.  Which isn't unusual or terribly bad or anything, but it's just there and I'm tired and don't want to work, so of course throwing words around is the solution.

I can't get you out of my mind.  It's like you've become my ideal in a twisted way, in the same twisted way she was, except that ended simply and passed.  I can't do that with you.  Really just because there are so many things in the way.  Everything is in the way.  This is another one of my obsessions and I don't know how to fix it, how to make it go away.  It's like you somehow embody perfection, except that you don't but you do.  Which I know doesn't make any sense.

I haven't told anybody.  It's not really because it's something I have no reason to know (although I'm sure you figured I'd find out).  And it's not because I feel like it's any real secret or anything.  But I can't say it.  Even though appropriate context has come up naturally in conversation and it would have fit in perfectly and I'm itching to talk about it.  About you.

This sounds like a shitty romance you'd read about in a novel off the adult paperback fiction shelves of the library.  It's not a romance at all.  It's just me being twisted, caught in the past, unable to move on, fucked up, tired and confused and still a little bit depressed.

I don't think I'm even trying to make sense of this anymore.  I feel like I'm supposed to say something about how this curiosity is consuming me, but it's not.  It's not that I'm constantly thinking about you, not even close.  It's just that when I do, I fall into a certain mood which often comes with more than a bit of self-loathing and is extraordinarily unproductive and difficult to escape.

Nobody should read this.  Ever.  The you here is different from the you that is a label and appears more often throughout this blog, in case that wasn't obvious.  I don't even know what I'm saying anymore.  I want to delete this but I need to keep it somewhere, and it's too concrete, too verbose to be put into my private stash.  So here it stays, I guess.  For now at least, if nothing else.